


Oops Dominos Took Your Soul

by the_word_chemist



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Chris gets no sleep (like always), Coffee Shops, M/M, cough get some sleep chris cough, i'll be more specific with the characters when I Actually Write Things, i'm just your friendly in-book narrator providing meaningful insight on the actions of these kids, please read this and make suggestions for How To Actually Write Human Actions, they both do music because what else would they do, they wilding just like always, this is me projecting my love of cliches on the loves of my life lmao, well starbucks, what am I even doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_word_chemist/pseuds/the_word_chemist
Summary: Okay so this is such a work in progress, and it's nowhere near done, but I just wanted to get it out there and see what people think of the beginning. I'll get an actual summary soon lol, but for now read this if you want! It's just pure fluff and some curses via yours truly, Woojin and Chris.





	Oops Dominos Took Your Soul

Blinking sleepily, Woojin dragged himself into a Starbucks void of most life at seven in the morning ready to order the most espresso’d-up drink they had. It had taken him approximately fifty uneventful minutes to truly wake up on the monotonous train ride there, half of which had consisted of him blankly staring at the newspaper he grabbed at the t-station. He had hoped the picture of an ambiguously-aged man with a shoulder bag and things to do would ward off any strangers that also went to his college; he needed some coffee and someone who tried to talk to him might be asking to get their head ripped clean off their head. He had no tolerance for amateur students who didn’t know the struggle of writing a medical thesis on top of the pressure to take care of five kids who treated him like their dad. Hell, at the rate he was going he might as well just ask for ten shots of pure caffeine because he _needed_ to stay awake. It was a matter of life or death!

…At least, his paper’s life. I think, as the narrator, adding that piece of information is key.

_Whatever,_ he thought, _just get your coffee and leave, idiot._ He was sure there would be plenty other poor souls waiting to get their shit and leave, but he needed to either get some heavy stuff or green tea, and he already had his fair share of leaf-juice at home. Getting in the surprisingly short line, the college sufferer student tapped out patterns on his phone, practicing the little bit of morse code he’d learned thanks to his lit. teacher’s incessant tapping. My ears perked up at the sound of a familiar sequence. Dot, dash, dot, dot, pause, dot-dot, pause, dash, pause - and on he tapped, slowly spelling out his early morning death wish. Ah, the message was simply too relatable.

By the time he’d gotten to the final, solitary dot, he’d reached the counter and was faced with one of the prettier faces he’d seen in his short life. The face didn’t seem to notice Woojin yet, busy in thought and wiping down the counter. The little actions gave him ample time to gather his senses, unlike the perfect image behind the counter.

_Poor soul,_ I thought, shaking my head in sympathy.

-

“Hello, welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you-?” The barista’s words got cut off when he looked up and choked on his own breath. He’d just seen an angel, he was sure. Chan didn’t know angels went to Starbucks, he’d always thought they got their coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts or something but apparently his mom had lied to him ten years ago. It was understandable and he’s probably going lie to his gullible children as a dad, but still, the rambling course his train of thought had taken didn’t change the fact that he still had to take an angel’s order.

Quite literally jumping, Chan raised himself of his little reverie to face a strangely angelic smirk. “Sorry, what would you like to order?” His voice cracked halfway through the ‘you’ but he really couldn’t care less as he waited to hear the angel’s response to his quiet question. I watched on from my corner of the café, sipping my tea while the student (Chan was assuming from the backpack, although the man in front of him could honestly be a very hot dad) raised an amused eyebrow as if to indicate that he couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t believe this.

Clearing his throat, Chan nearly yelled, “ _what would you like to order?_ ” Promptly, he shrunk back when half the café looked over at the pair.

The student(/hot dad?) laughed and Chan’s embarrassment faded into awe as his ears were blessed with the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard - except maybe a text notification from the pizza delivery guy who got him food at three am on Monday each week. He really ought to invite him to stay the night one of these days, but at that moment he also needed to stop staring awkwardly at the customer he was _supposed to be serving._

“Sorry about that, did you say something?” Chan would’ve facepalmed if it wouldn’t make him look even more stupid. The other just chuckled and scanned the menu on the wall across from him.

“Just hit me with the most caffeinated drink you have-” the angel peered at his nametag “-Chan,” he decided after a couple seconds of supposed rumination. I rolled my eyes at the act, knowing that he’d just done it to stare at the barista’s face a bit more. A moment passed for Chan to actually think of what might help when he just left without question and started making what must be the most bitter coffee to ever walk the earth - at least, that is what was expected to the best of the angel’s knowledge.

After a quick realization of his mistake, the barista popped back over to the counter, ears red, to ask the possible hot dad still waiting there for his name. “To put on the order,” he said, receiving a knowing smile in return.

“Kim Woojin.”

Oh, that is _pretty_.

Another moment passed before Chan realized he was staring - for what, maybe the fourth time? - and returned to the superpowered latte he was in the process of making. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes, feel free to sit down!” The Blushing Barista™ waved at the seating area on the side, not looking Woojin in the eyes as he strolled over to the wild assortment of tables. He readied his station: got the outdated electric kettle plugged in, measured the sweet ingredients, regular things. Unfortunately for his burning ears, the ageless beauty simply dropped his messenger bag on a chair and went straight back to the counter like a damn magnet. I sighed before adding all the actions taken at every minute, tea going cold. It gets so tedious sometimes, but interactions like this are why we narrators practically to live in coffee shops.

Woojin the Hot Dad leaned on the counter to watch his cup be heaped with what looked like pure black powder. “How bitter do you think it would be,” he mused, Chan jumping at the sound of his voice in the near-silent café, “if I were to just mix straight up caffeine with water? I’m talking the literal, white-powder drug,” he added when all he got in return was a blank stare.

“Well, I’d assume it wouldn’t matter when all you’d get is high,” Chan dropped two spoons of sugar in and calculated, sprinkling pieces of peppermint in the mix of white and brown to add a touch of freshness. It would be pretty shitty to just have a cup of bean powder and boiled water on the way to whatever hell you’re heading to. It’s a well known and unspoken fact that no one orders a strongly caffeinated coffee at Starbucks, strictly white-girl territory, unless they’re on a road name-dropped by the acclaimed AC/DC. With a flourish, Chan put some water to boil in the little teakettle they had (and needed to upgrade). Once the water started boiling, Chan fell back to the counter and found himself once again face-to-face with an angel. _Quick, say something witty so the conversation doesn’t dry up!_

“...So, come here often?” _Fuck!_

Woojin broke down laughing at the deep red blush on Chan’s face. “I’m kidding, sorry, I was trying to say something else!” Flustered, Chan nearly dropped the jar of sugar he was holding to cover his face.

The man in question grabbed onto the counter as he stood back up, catching his breath. When the barista kept rambling, he smiled and interrupted, “it’s honestly fine, love, I get that a lot.” He realized the pet name slipped out a bit too late, but it wasn’t disastrous. It’s not like he didn’t hope to use it a lot more. “What were you trying to ask, hm?”

Chan mumbled something under his breath, of which the narrator only caught bits and pieces, such as “hot dad” and “too pretty to be mean”.

Whatever that means.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, ears calming down. Meeting Woojin’s eyes, he tried to regain some composure and smile. “I meant to ask if you were a student, or just a really young dad.” He grimaced when his question was received yet again with giggles. “Not that you look old or anything, if you _are_ a dad. Or a student, really, you barely look a day over twenty-two. Oh god, I hope you’re not nineteen or something, that would be so embarrassing, I’m not offending you right? Sometimes I piss people off by saying too much, it’s a-”

“Wanna try again?” There’s a sparkle in Woojin’s eyes that make it easy to tell he was joking, but Chan still sighed at himself before rephrasing his question.

“Do you live around here?” There, that was better. Also much easier for narrator’s to dictate, one should advocate.

Woojin replied when the kettle had finished whistling, waking up the whole café and staff. “Yeah, I have an apartment one town over. I go to XXX University,” he said in response to Chan’s questioning gaze.

The barista perked up. “I go there too! I’m a composition major, but I’m mostly done with my courses since I took a faster program than most.” He poured the boiling water into a cup of caffeinated peppermint, hoping it didn’t taste like trash. After considering, he poured a bit of coffee into a ‘shot glass’ and handed it to the college student (definitely not a hot dad). “Can you taste this to see if it’s okay?”

Woojin raised an eyebrow as he took the tiny cup from the composing major. “I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” he ventured cautiously as he took a sip. _Wow_ , that was strong. “It’s great though,” he offered with a smile.

“Oh, it’s so not allowed,” Chan grinned as Woojin nearly spit out the second sip he took in fear. “I didn’t want to give you an experimental drink on the way to uni that tastes like garbage, that would suck complete whale dick. Consider it the perks of catching a barista’s eye,” he added, not truly absorbing what he’d said until it was too late. He ignored his burning ears and finished off the coffee with a syrup that may or may not have just served to add even more caffeine. Sliding back to the pick-up desk, he asked if Woojin wanted something extra to go, hand poised by the bags as he entered in a peppermint mocha to the register. It was close enough, right? He just used caffeine in place of the milk.

And whipped cream.

And peppermint syrup.

And chocolate.

God, he was such a bad employee.

Woojin was still browsing the pastries when he focused his thoughts again, so he didn’t miss anything. Chan had a plan though; he decided he would write his number on a napkin and put it in the customer’s bag. Then he’d at least be able to say he tried to get the man of his fleeting daydreams. It was terribly cliché, but it would be worth it if he managed to get a call. Even if he didn’t like him that way, they could at least be friends?

The man in question brought Chan out of his thoughts. “Can I have five chocolate croissants? My kids are always starving in the morning.” Chan seemed a bit surprised since it had been previously mentioned that he was just a college student, but he also referred to his own ~~kids~~ friends as his children so he really had no room to judge. He assumed it was the same situation as he nodded and excused himself to empty the pre-made dessert tray. I watched the café door open a few times in the time it took Chan to ring that up on the slightly off-white cash register that needed replacing. The barista briefly wondered if his manager would ever pay a visit and let the appliances be replaced. There was a low chance, but it was still there, right?

Grabbing a bag, the blond wrapped the pastries in the prosaic wax paper and placed in a bag, retrieving a few napkins and grabbing a pen out of sight. A few scribbles later, and he was stuffing the paper in a standard pink bag and shoving it across the counter as he typed in the order. Success!

“There you go, Woojin! Enjoy the coffee, and tell your kids I send wake up wishes,” Chan giggled as he pushed the order towards him. He winked and added a quick, “the napkins are my favorite bit of any order.”

Woojin just looked at him in bafflement. What the fuck did that mean? “Thanks!” There was no risk in being polite, of course. There must just be something on the napkins, like a note or his email; if it _did_ turn out to be a note, he’d have to hide it from Jisung and Minho. They’d never let him live it down if they read about someone being attracted to him. An email might be a bit outdated, but it was still a valid form of communication. He was definitely interested if the napkin held Chan’s email or number–

_Oh, I’m just an idiot._


End file.
